Insights
by RED Scout
Summary: I have had Team Fortress Two fanfiction bouncing around in my head for several days now. These three stories are about Spy, Pyro, and Scout, in that order. I hope you all enjoy them. Also, in the last story, I am assuming RED Spy is BLU Scout's father.
1. Chapter 1

Strong emotions were utterly useless things, according to Spy. They caused hesitation or clumsiness at crucial moments, and Spy was perfectly happy to exploit them in others, but experience them himself? No, thank you.

He would permit himself certain emotions, of course; he was human after all, and there were feelings that he either enjoyed or was unable to surprises entirely. Schadenfreude, felt when the BLU's limped back to their base in defeat; mild annoyance, when blood splattered on his suit; a bored kind of amusement at the sight of his team's Heavy beating their Scout into a bloody pulp after some argument; a certain thrill in his blood that made his pants just a bit too tight when a wounded, half-dead BLU whimpered in pain as he twisted his knife in their belly.

These never distracted him, never controlled him, and that made them alright. But every so often, he did feel something more.

He would never say that he was friends with Sniper. To be someone's friend you had to feel more than what he allowed himself. But he would admit that they tolerated each other.

They were both colder and more detached than the rest of their team, and Spy suspected that Sniper shared his philosophy on emotion. They never really talked, but smoke-filled, companionable silence was good enough for both of them

Strong feelings simply weren't necessary.


	2. Chapter 2

When Soldier gets drunk-which is a very rare occurrence indeed-he tends to ramble about the end of the world, the fall of mankind. He sounds upset when he does this, and Pyro truly cannot understand why.

He knows that man is, without exception, evil. From the instant a child is able to speak, they begin to lie; from the moment they can choose to do right or wrong, they unfailingly choose wrong. Humanity is an unclean species, too focused on the pleasure of the moment to consider the future. They foul their own nests.

Pyro looks forward to the End, when cleansing fire will rain down upon the earth and burn everything to ashes, removing all of the filth and muck that humanity has built up. He longs to see that day, when evil will finally come to an end.

But it hasn't come yet, and so he settles for being a stand-in for that heavenly inferno, burning whatever rubbish he can reach with his flamethrower. It irks him, sometimes, that they don't stay dead.

But if they did stay dead, he wouldn't have the pleasure of hearing their dying screams day after day. And somehow, he thinks, life simply wouldn't be as satisfying without that. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

When Scout was seven years old, his grandmother read the story of Rikki Tikki Tavi to him. He had listened with wide eyes and rapt attention, and took it to heart. "Run and find out!" That was Rikki Tikki's motto, and after that day, it became Scout's as well. He ran through alleys and empty lots, pretending to chase Nag and Nagaina, though he'd never tell anyone that; to everyone else, he was practicing for baseball, or track, or whatever sport he had watched his older brothers play that summer.

Scout wasn't much of a reader, when he finally got to High School, and didn't do too well in any class that required reading; he hardly even knew who the Wright Brothers were, or how many tries it had taken them to make the light bulb. He never went to library, and handed in his homework only about half the time. The only thing he was truly good at was running.

Running wasn't just his talent, though; it was his life. His entire existence revolved around and could be summed up by the burn and stretch of his legs as he flew across a field trying to outpace a thrown ball, or down the street as he outran the wail of sirens and angry shouts of cheated store owners.

Eventually, he found that as good as he was, he couldn't outrun a police car. The person who came for him down at the jail wasn't his mother, though, it was a man in a black suit with a blue tie who had sat down and said a whole lot of big words that Scout didn't get, and then said that he was with a company that would pay off the store owner to keep him from pressing charges if Scout would come and work for them.

When he found out what he'd be doing, he jumped at the chance.

"Run and find out." That was his motto again, now. He would run, and find out where the other side kept their info, and bring it back. He had a gun, now, in addition to his baseball bat, but that was okay because no one he shot ever stayed dead. It wasn't really a war. It was just a game, one where he played Rikki Tikki and the men in red shirts were cobras and vipers to be vanquished.

And so he ran and taunted the enemy mercilessly, mocking their slow clumsiness as he darted in circles around them. And every night, when he went to bed, he paused to thumb through a battered, almost coverless book before replacing it under his pillow.

It might have been childish, but he figured that he more than made up for that moment of weakness during the day. And without his brothers here to tease him, he felt no shame in enjoying the one book he had ever read all the way through.

Unlike Rikki Tikki, though, Scout didn't have a very good sense of smell. He never noticed the faint odor of cigarette smoke in his room one night, and couldn't begin to fathom why the RED Spy hesitated to shoot him the next day.

He cheerfully bashed in the man's head with his bat, and ran back to his base without a second thought.


End file.
